


ACOTAR Role Reversal AU Part 4

by ink_like_starlight



Series: ACOTAR Role Reversal AU [4]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOTAR - Freeform, ACOTAR Role Reversal AU, AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Interrupted Wedding, Role Reversal, Wedding, acomaf, fae!feyre, human!rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15295215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ink_like_starlight/pseuds/ink_like_starlight
Summary: Rhys is getting ready for his wedding to Amarantha, High Lady of the Spring Court, when a certain High Lady of Night interrupts.ACOMAF Interrupted Wedding scene (pages 34-42)ACOMAF heavily, heavily, heavily, heavily referenced.





	ACOTAR Role Reversal AU Part 4

Rhys really, truly hated his wedding suit.

It was a monstrosity of garishly colored velvet and silk and chiffon, so unlike the comfortable tunics he usually wore: too many rows of buttons, flowers in every pocket, ruffles, feathers, and the pants… The pants were a sparkly second skin, too tight and practically exposing it all. 

No wonder Amarantha had laughed. Alix, even as he’d dressed me, chuckled a bit, bit refrained from commenting. Most likely because Attor had personally selected the suit to complement whatever tale he’d weave today--the legend he’d proclaim to the world. 

Rhys might have dealt with it all if it weren’t for the choking, wide, ruffled collar so big he could catch the edge of it glinting from the periphery of his vision. His hair had been curled, filled with pins and gold chains and even more feathers. It had taken all his self control to keep from cringing in the mirror before descending the sweeping stairs into the main hall. His suit hissed with each step. 

Beyond the shut patio doors where I paused, the garden had been bedecked in ribbons and lanterns in shades of cream, blush, and sky blue. Three hundred chairs were assembled in the largest courtyard, each seat occupied by Amarantha’s court. He’d make his way down the main aisle, enduring their stares, before he reached the dias at the other end--where he’d wait for Amarantha to emerge. 

Then Attor would sanction and bless their union right before sundown, as representative of  _ all _ twelve High Priests. He’d hinted that they’d pushed to be present--but through whatever cunning, he’d managed to keep the other eleven away. Either to claim the attention for himself, or to spare Rhys from being hounded by the pack of them. He couldn’t tell. Perhaps both.

Rhys’ mouth dried as the wind ruffled the excess fabric of his suit. He gripped the dark cane in his gloved hands, hearing the wood creak in his fist. Thick silk gloves--to hide the markings. Attor had delivered them himself this morning in a velvet-lined box. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Alix clucked, his tree-bark skin rich and flushed in the honey-gold evening light. 

“I’m not,” he rasped. 

“You sound like you’re going to your funeral.”

Rhys plastered a grin on his face in response. Alix rolled his eyes, but pushed Rhys towards the doors swinging open by some invisible hand. “It’ll be over soon,” he promised, gently pushing Rhys into the last of the sunlight. 

Three hundred people stood at his entrance, angling in his direction. The last time so many gathered, judging eyes had watched him, he was facing his last trial Under the Mountain. All in finery just like what they’d worn then, was it different at all? Their faces blurred, twisted in the fading light, like torches lighting dark tunnels, like flickering firelight.

Alix coughed from the shadow of the house. Rhys stiffened, remembering to look towards the dias where he was meant to wait, to watch his path as to not trip. Scattered among the soft grass, lining the benches, were white roses, white and red--

Like pools of blood spilling, splattered along the backs of benches, trailing down in streams. Stone walls and darkness flashed, replacing the image of open sky and grass. Mud, fear, looking up at an audience that did nothing but look down at him.

Rhys forced his gaze up to the dias,past his memories, past the eyes that watched him, not knowing the true extent of how dark and broken he was inside, how unfit were his white gloves, when his hands should have been a glaring, scarlet red. 

Were they remembering it too? The way he murdered their kind, twice, selfishly took two lives, felt their warm blood coat his hands. Every step was forward propelling him closer to a promise he could never escape. 

He was a murderer and a liar. 

Ten steps from the dias, from the wooden arch covered in red roses, coated in dripping blood, Rhys slowed, then stopped. 

His heart beat fast, too fast, like it meant to hammer out of his chest. 

He was going to be sick.

Something inside him, something in his bones, running in his blood, thrummed to life, screamed, lashed and fought and  _ demanded _ \--

Too many eyes, too many witnesses, standing away, looking down, he was  _ trapped _ \--

His body shook with the force of whatever energy inside him wanted out, refused this binding, refused this promise he couldn’t make. 

If he turned away, there would be no stopping the rumors, the damage to the Spring Court’s image, but he couldn’t bring himself forward. He would fall apart right then and there, in front of everyone--and they’d see how precisely how ruined he was. 

_ Stop this, please help me, I can’t _ , he begged someone, anyone. He begged Jurian, standing in the front row, eyes fixed on him, begged Attor standing at the dias waiting to bind him. 

_ Please, stop, end this, anyone, end this please! _

Attor took a step forward.

Rhys retreated.  _ No _ . 

He tried to get his traitorous body to stop shaking, his frozen feet to move him somewhere,  _ anywhere _ else. He tried to speak, but none of the words echoing in his head came out. 

A crack of thunder saved him from forcing the words out. People screamed, some ducking between the seats, some vanishing outright as darkness erupted. Rhy’s whirled, and through the night drifting away like smoke on a wind, he found Feyre flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder. 

“Hello, Rhysand darling,” she purred. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll! Hope you enjoyed this little shorty. This may possibly be the last installment of the Role Reversal AU as I feel like I mostly just rewriting scenes as opposed to coming up with more "original" fanfiction. Thank you for taking this journey with me! If you're looking for some other acotar readings... check out my Hewn City Nightclub for some NSFW content. 
> 
> I update every Friday/Saturday!


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